Rusk Report II: A challenge to change

Editor's note: The report below was published in December 2002. It is an update of a 1996 community report by urban expert David Rusk. Read the first Rusk Report here.

York can recover if entire county works on problems

By DAVID RUSK

Six years ago, with the support of Better York, the York Daily Record presented "Renewing Our Community: The Rusk Report on the Future of Greater York." Tracing trends through census reports from 1950 to 1990, my report was a study in contrasts.

I praised York County's "prosperous farms still covering many gently rolling slopes and valley bottoms," its "country crossroads villages embodying small town America," the "many factories around York City, Hanover, or Red Lion testifying to a strong local economy," and the visual delights of historic York City.

But I concluded that "suburban sprawl, concentrated poverty, and fiscal disparities are eroding York County's quality of life. They aren't just York City's problems. They are county-wide problems. They must be addressed through county-wide strategies."

And I recommended specific actions to manage the county's growth, create mixed-income communities, share local revenues equitably, and revive historic York City, potentially the county's most valuable asset.

Census 2000 now allows us to update York County's major trends through the 1990s. It is an opportunity to step back from the daily headlines to see the big picture: Where are York County and York City heading?

Today begins a week-long series of articles that will end with a closing commentary on Sunday.

Today's article will assess the local economy over the past decade. Tuesday's article will revisit the four, distinct sections of York County - Central York, York-Hanover, York-Harrisburg, and York-Baltimore - that I identified six years ago. On Wednesday I will document York City's overall continued decline during the past decade despite hopeful civic initiatives.

Thursday's article will expand upon a theme briefly introduced six years ago - how these trends affect the education of York County's children for the world of the future. What's happening to York County's farmland and natural areas will be the topic of Friday's article.

Finally, on Sunday I will offer an overall perspective and make renewed suggestions.

Creative solutions needed to keep York County strong

During the 1990s, York County's economy was strong, with low unemployment, above-average family incomes, and a low poverty rate. But it also showed signs of long-term trouble. During that decade the local economy lost factory jobs at a faster clip and grew other jobs at a slower rate than the national average from 331 metropolitan areas.

And earlier this year, a nationally recognized economist rated metro York a lowly 202nd out of 268 metro areas on the "Creativity Index," a possible key to its future growth. To understand these developments, we need to take a long-range view.

Fifty years ago, over half of all York County workers made things. Forty-seven percent worked in factories. Another 8 percent were farmers and farm workers. A half-century later, York County's economy has undergone an economic revolution. Less than one quarter of all workers - 23 percent - are engaged in manufacturing. Though York County is still a top farming area, barely 1 percent of its labor force works in agriculture.

Yet more than most metro areas, York County still makes things, and makes them well. At 23 percent, York County's proportion of factory workers is twice that of the typical metro area, which has 11 percent.

But the reality today is that almost three out of four local workers provide services rather than grow or make goods.

Most economists agree that the decline of traditional factory jobs in areas like York County reflects three primary forces (though they will argue about their relative importance): globalization, Frost Belt-to-Sun Belt relocation, and technological change. Many credit technological changes leading to vastly greater productivity as accounting for as much as two-thirds of the reduction in factory jobs. In short, because of technological changes, including much higher educational and skill levels, the average American factory worker produces much more than his counterpart a half-century ago - and that's even more striking for the average American farmer.

York County's success in maintaining a stronger manufacturing economy reflects the relative diversity of the products it makes and the high proportion of local ownership strongly committed to the area.

Gauging our success:

How well is York County doing? Well, compared to whom?

For the 1996 report, I searched old census data to identify which communities were most like the York area around 1950. I came up with a list of 14 other metro areas that matched up well with York County. In 1950 they had roughly the York area's same average family income ($3,080 per year), the same regional population (about 250,000 residents), same economic structure (47 percent of York area employees worked in factories), and a small minority population (2 percent was "nonwhite").

Seven of York's regional peers were familiar Pennsylvania neighbors (Harrisburg, Lancaster, Reading, Allentown-Bethlehem, Altoona, Erie and Johnstown). Other regional peers were farther afield - Canton, Ohio, for example, or Wichita, Kan. Finally, for comparison's sake, I added the Raleigh-Durham area in North Carolina since that's the kind of region that many of York County's young people move to - and that successfully lures away local manufacturers.

Over the previous 40 years, the York area had measured up well to its peer communities. As of 1990 the York area had the lowest poverty rate, was second only to Raleigh-Durham in growth in real standard of living, and ranked fifth in growth of manufacturing jobs. (York had not lost any factory jobs during the 1970s and 1980s; York's Pennsylvania peers lost, on average, one-fifth of their factory jobs.)

How did the York economy perform during the 1990s? During the decade York County lost 10 percent of its factory jobs, including about 1,000 when Caterpillar Inc. closed its York plant. That's a faster rate of factory job loss than its Pennsylvania peers, which lost 7 percent, its other peer communities, which lost 4 percent, or the average of 331 metro areas, which also lost 7 percent. And that's worrisome.

Of course, the York economy created many service jobs to take the place of lost factory jobs. Metro York's "non-factory" jobs grew 20 percent - slightly faster than the 19 percent increase seen by its peers. However, the growth of service jobs in metro York was slower than the national metro average of 23 percent. That's worrisome, too. And York County's performance doesn't compare with Raleigh-Durham, where factory jobs jumped by 11 percent and service jobs soared by 49 percent.

The York economy still performed well in terms of income levels and poverty. During the past decade, after adjusting for a 34 percent increase in the average cost of living, median family income in York County grew 5.4 percent to $52,278. The typical family's income was more than 10 percent above the $47,417 seen by the York area's Pennsylvania peers and the $46,417 seen by its non-Pennsylvania peers, and about 4 percent above the national average of $50,046.

Here again, however, York County's 5.4 percent rate of growth in real income for the decade was below its peers outside Pennsylvania, which saw a 7 percent jump, and the national average increase of 5.6 percent. And, as we'll see Tuesday, the greatest growth in income occurred among York County residents who work outside the county.

So the story of York County's economy for the past decade is a mixture of good news and, if not bad news, at least not-so-good news.

The Creative Class

What does the future hold for York County? Maybe increasingly bad news, if Richard Florida, a professor at Pittsburgh's Carnegie-Mellon University, has a clear crystal ball. Florida has just written a new book, "The Rise of the Creative Class," in which he argues that communities like York County may increasingly be left behind by the evolving economy.

"The creative class," Florida argues, "[is] a fast-growing, highly educated, and well-paid segment of the work force on whose efforts corporate profits and economic growth increasingly depend. Members of the creative class do a wide variety of work in a wide variety of industries - from technology to entertainment, journalism to finance, high-end manufacturing to the arts. Places that succeed in attracting creative class people prosper; those that don't fail."

Florida develops a Creativity Index with a mix of four equally weighted factors: "creative class" share of the workforce; percentage of high-tech industry; innovation, as measured by patents per capita; and diversity (see www.creativeclass.org). York County ranks 202nd out of 268 metro areas on Florida's Creativity Index. It ranks 232nd in the percentage of its workforce in the "creative class" occupations; 192nd in percentage of high-tech industry; 92nd in innovation (a bright spot!); and 201st in diversity.

Among giant metro areas (1 million or more residents) the top-ranked is, not surprisingly, the San Francisco bay area, followed by Austin, Texas; San Diego; Boston and Seattle. The bottom five are Louisville, Ky.; Buffalo, N.Y.; Las Vegas; Norfolk-Virginia Beach-Newport News in Virginia, and Memphis, Tenn.

For large metro areas (populations of 500,000 to 1 million), Albuquerque, N.M., is ranked top, while Youngstown-Warren in Ohio ranks last. Among medium-sized metro areas (York County's category, with populations of 250,000 to 500,000) Madison, Wis., is No. 1; Shreveport, La., brings up the rear. Santa Fe, N.M., which has both a vigorous cultural scene and Los Alamos National Laboratory, heads the list of small metro areas (50,000 to 250,000) while Enid, Okla., ranks last in that category's Creativity Index rankings.

"While it is important to have a solid business climate," Florida counsels, "having an effective people climate is even more essential. By this I mean a general strategy aimed at attracting and retaining people - especially, but not limited to, creative people. This entails remaining open to diversity and actively working to cultivate it, and investing in the lifestyle amenities that people really want and use often [urban parks, bike lanes, performance venues], as opposed to using financial incentives to attract companies, build professional sports stadiums, or develop retail complexes."

York County is not the kind of place today that is a magnet for such creative class workers. Could it become such a place? Should it even try? And if it should, how can York County do so?

Think of York County's economy as if it were an athlete - a middleweight weightlifting champion, bulked up from hoisting all those York barbells at a gym just down the road from the National Weightlifting Hall of Fame. York's been successful for years at what it does well - pumping iron. But it's losing a little muscle tone. And it sees the big money going not to weightlifters but to sprinters and milers - that is, creative class economies.

Can York develop the legs for the long run? Can it not abandon weightlifting to become not only a runner but a champion decathlete?

York County shows four faces

Commuting, employment patterns lead many away from city of York

There are really four York Counties.

If this were a harness race at the York County fair, York-Harrisburg, a powerful stallion that is part of the governor's stable, would be stepping smartly toward the finish line, lengthening its lead with each furlong;

York-Baltimore, a young colt, would be holding down second place, showing plenty of staying power but not much closing speed;

York-Hanover, a smallish mare, would be fading slowly; and Central York, a two-horse entry, would be bringing up the rear.

In that last tandem, Suburban York believes that old York City is holding it back, and would like to cut York City loose and go on as a one-horse entry. However, the truth is that Suburban York is increasingly showing its age and is slowing down.

And old York City actually has the bloodlines that could breed a whole new generation of winners if handled right. Let's take a detailed look at each of the four sections.

Central York

If you live in York City, you certainly don't have far to go to work. Almost half of city residents (46 percent in 1990) work in the city; almost all work in York County. Average commute time to work was 19 minutes in 2000.

However, the gap between city incomes and suburban incomes widened sharply during the 1990s, and the city's share of the county-wide property tax base has dropped steadily from 15 percent to only 5 percent over the past three decades. Only 300 housing units, almost all subsidized, were built in the city during the 1990s, and the median home value of $56,500 was barely half the county-wide average. In short, York City is an increasingly impoverished community with the number of those in poverty having risen from 20 percent in 1989 to 24 percent in 1999.

Most residents of Suburban York work right in the area, though only 22 percent worked in the city itself in 1990. Suburban sprawl separates jobs and homes, however, and Suburban York residents had longer commute times (26 minutes) than city residents in 2000.

Suburban York continues to dominate the scene: 61 percent of the county's new housing units were built there during the 1990s. However, though most Suburban York residents are economically well off, they've seen their northern neighbors in York-Harrisburg move ahead of them in both income and home values.

York-Hanover

York-Hanover continues to grow modestly, but is quite independent of Central York. In 1990, 44 percent of York-Hanover residents worked in Hanover itself. Another 31 percent worked in Adams County and Maryland's Carroll and Baltimore counties. That latter proportion probably grew in the 1990s, as the average commute from the York-Hanover area lengthened to 27 minutes.

However, cut off from metropolitan centers such as Baltimore and Harrisburg and heavily dependent on factory work, York-Hanover's average income slid slowly down the scale, even as new home prices rose. In 1989, York-Hanover's per capita incomes equaled the county average; by 1999, the area's per capita income had slid to 98 percent of the county average.

York-Baltimore

New homes continue to go up in York-Baltimore (3,246 or 12 percent of the county's housing starts in the 1990s). However, the most visible growth was a new Wal-Mart and other new stores to serve the area's growing population.

According to Census 2000, average incomes remained right at the county average, but the preponderance of new homes gave York-Baltimore the highest median home value in the county. They must all be homes with two- and three-car garages, because York-Baltimore workers averaged an astounding 33 minutes to get to work. Based on that fact, over half of York-Baltimore residents must work in Baltimore County's Timonium-Hunt Valley area and points further south, if not in Baltimore's Inner Harbor itself.

York-Harrisburg

Finally, the rate of York-Harrisburg's growth startled me (if not county planners). During the 1990s one out of six new homes built in York County went up in the 10 boroughs and townships that constitute York-Harrisburg.

Already by 1990, more residents drove across the Susquehanna River to work in metro Harrisburg (55 percent) than worked in York County (40 percent). The cross-river proportion must have increased in the past decade, since York-Harrisburg workers have the shortest average commutes (25 minutes) except for York City residents themselves. It's convenient, and the jobs are obviously high-paying. During the decade, York-Harrisburg's per capita income shot up from being the same as the countywide average to 108 percent of that average.

Implications

Though I have stated these points before in the 1996 report, I think that it is important to restate the policy implications of having four different York Counties. Census 2000 confirms that these differences are more sharply drawn now than they were a decade ago.

First, the York area's leadership must recognize the political implications of the four York Counties. There are few economic ties between three of the four sub-regions and York City. This is particularly true regarding York City's role as employment center. Very few residents of York-Hanover, York-Harrisburg, and York-Baltimore work in York City (only 2.8 percent, 4.5 percent, and 5.4 percent, respectively, in 1989; these percentages were probably even lower a decade later).

It's fair to assume that only small numbers of those residents come regularly, if at all, to York City for shopping, entertainment, or other purposes. The one exception might be health services. So, residents of the three sub-regions understandably sense little impact from York City's decline.

Second, York County's economic future is increasingly controlled by events outside its borders. The highest rates of growth in households and buying power are occurring in York-Harrisburg and York-Baltimore. Increasingly, their residents depend on out-of-county employers or upon "local" companies with out-of-county ownership and management. More and more crucial decisions about York County's economic future are made by decision-makers without community roots, although York County maintains notably strong local business leadership.

Third, the 41 different boroughs and townships of Central York are proving once again the iron law of urban sprawl: "Today's winners become tomorrow's losers."

In past decades, the growth of York City's first-ring suburbs sapped the city's economic vitality. Now they are largely built out, and new growth is occurring primarily in the second-ring suburbs. From 1979 to 2002, the first-ring suburbs' share of York County's property tax base eroded from almost 19 percent to slightly over 13 percent. Though Springettsbury and Spring Garden probably grew modestly in assessed valuation, North York and West York, like the city, have probably lost tax base.

And all first-ring suburbs found their average incomes dropping relative to the countywide average during the past decade. Setting the county average income as an index value of 100, Spring Garden slid from 147 to 137; Springettsbury, 126 to 117; West York, 95 to 83, and North York, around 90 to 80.

Though most second- and third-ring townships are prospering, by definition, most boroughs in Central York are also declining. Red Lion's average income dropped from 88 to 84 on the index; Dallastown and Yoe, from 86 to 85. York Haven, with an index rating of 55, has even lower incomes than the city, which rates a 62 on the index.

In "big box" regions, geographically inclusive governments such as Charlotte, N.C., Indianapolis, or Nashville, Tenn., act as internal revenue-sharing mechanisms. They can translate taxes from wealthy neighborhoods into services for poorer neighborhoods.

But, with its 72 municipalities, York County is a textbook example of a "little boxes" region. Uneven economic growth translates directly into greater fiscal disparities. Some boroughs, townships, and school districts prosper, but others fall into fiscal crisis. The burdens of failure are greater than the benefits of success.

Finally, the future of York City is vital to the future of Central York. York City is still an important job center: 26 percent of Central York residents worked in the central city in 1990. City-based jobs are also many of the highest-paid jobs in Central York.

It is vital that the communities of Central York "hang together" or they shall surely "hang separately."

Boxed in and locked out of opportunity

What Pennsylvania and York County could do to turn it around

The Susquehanna Commerce Center is now open. A new county courthouse is rising. The renovation of the Strand-Capitol theater is under way. These projects alone total more than $100 million in new investment.

Major expansions are planned for York College and York Hospital. Martin Library will get bigger and receive a major makeover. A large section of William Penn Senior High School will be new. A ballpark appears to be on the horizon. These efforts mean the launching of about $200 million in new investments in the city.

Add to this these smaller, but highly significant, signposts of hope and progress: six shops and 31 over-the-store apartments renovated by the YMCA on West Market Street; pricey condos selling at The Lofts on North George Street; improvements made at Kiwanis Lake; a historic bandstand brought back to life in Farquhar Park; and signs of homeowners reinvesting in the neighborhood known as The Avenues.

Lots of good things are happening in York City these days.

So where do I get off, proclaiming that York City has now passed a point of (almost) no return, as was reported in the article, "Rusk: York falls close to brink," in the Aug. 6 York Daily Record?

The explanation lies in what you choose to look at - big new buildings rising, or falling statistics that measure less visible, but critical, long-term trends.

In 1993, in my first book, "Cities without Suburbs," I published a list of 24 cities that I labeled "Past the Point of No Return." All had passed three critical measures of decline:

A population loss of at least 20 percent since their peak population;

High levels of segregation, as shown by a disproportionate percentage of blacks and Hispanics living in the city compared to the suburbs; and

An average income in the city that is less than 70 percent of the average suburban level. As of the 1990 census, no city that had passed all three qualifiers had ever come back. Not one inch.

Of the 24 cities, some were declining giants, like Chicago, Detroit, Cleveland, Baltimore, and Philadelphia. Others were smaller cities, like Saginaw, Mich.; Camden, N.J., and East St. Louis, Ill.

York almost made the list a decade ago, but as of the 1990 census, York's average income was 71 percent of suburban levels, just barely above my threshold.

Ten years later, York qualified on all counts. Since its peak population mark of a half-century ago, York has lost 32 percent of its residents, dropping another 1,330 people during the 1990s.

Blacks and Hispanics now make up 45 percent of the city's population, up from 28 percent just a decade before. That's 17 times suburban levels - the biggest city-suburb disproportion among the country's 541 central cities.

And the city-suburb income gap grew much wider. York's average income dropped from 71 percent to 61 percent of suburban levels.

The size of that drop is notable, because the 1990s were a pretty good decade for most cities. By the end of the decade, many cities' poorest residents were finding jobs. Census 2000 measured income for 1999, the peak year of the economic boom. An economic snapshot could not have been taken at a better moment for most cities.

By contrast with the previous four decades, some cities, such as Detroit and Cleveland, halted their economic declines, though they continued to lose population and become more disproportionately black and Hispanic.

However, Chicago actually came back. A surge of Hispanic immigrants reversed four decades of declining population. And thousands of yuppies flooded into new condos and upscale apartments around the Loop, lifting Chicago's average income from 66 percent of suburban levels in 1989 to 72 percent of suburban levels in 1999.

For that reason, I renamed my list "Cities Past the Point of (almost) No Return."

In fact, during the 1990s, only seven out of 541 central cities saw city incomes really plummet, opening up the city-suburb income gap at double-digit rates. They were Reading (down 14.4 percent), Waterbury, Conn. (down 12.8 percent), Allentown (down 11.9 percent), New Haven, Conn. (down 11.3 percent), New Bedford, Mass. (down 10.7 percent), Meriden, Conn. (down 10.5 percent), and York (down 10.3 percent). Three of these seven cities are in Pennsylvania's "sunbelt."

One of today's charts summarizes these trends for the central cities that have been on my endangered cities list. I've also highlighted York's other Pennsylvania neighbors, including Lancaster and Allentown, which aren't yet on the list only because they haven't had enough population loss.

The full story

Some city officials and civic leaders in York lashed out at my report when it was released in August. These statistics don't tell the whole story, they said.

That's right. My statistics focus on the disparities between who lives in the city and who lives in the suburbs. So let's take another measure: the property tax base.

In Tuesday's article I traced how York City's share of the county's property tax base had dropped from 15 percent in 1969 to just 5 percent this year. The city's slice of the whole pie has shrunk, but has the whole pie grown so large that the city is still better off?

The answer is no.

Assessed property valuations, particularly in Pennsylvania, are notoriously difficult to track over time since state law didn't always require local governments to assess at full market value and to keep the tax rolls up to date.

However, let's take a look York City's more recent property valuations. In 1989, the city recorded an assessed valuation of $652 million. However, in 1991, the State Taxation Equalization Board found that the average ratio of assessed value to actual selling prices in York County was 77.8 percent. In other words, property was being assessed at an average of nearly 80 percent of its market value. That suggests that the actual value of all real estate in York City was around $835 million to $840 million in 1989.

By 2002, the city reported an assessed valuation of $887 million - absolutely unchanged from three years before. The STEB-determined "Common Level Ratio" was 91.2 percent in 2000, suggesting that the actual market value of all real property in York City was around $965 million to $970 million during that three-year stretch of acknowledged stagnation in property values.

That would mean that over a 13-year period, York City's nominal tax base went up 15 percent.

But wait. The cost of living was increasing as well - in fact, 46 percent over that same period. Adjusted for inflation, York City lost about 20 percent of its property tax base.

By contrast, making the same adjustments, the property tax base grew about 20 percent in the rest of York County, excluding the city.

The City of York's deteriorating property tax base is reflected in its mediocre bond rating (Baa2 from Moody's Investors Service). For at least 20 years the city has bought insurance guaranteeing third-party payment in the event of default. That adds to the cost of using bonds to raise money.

York is not alone

Mayor John Brenner has just proposed cutting the city budget by about 8 percent for next year, including laying off nine police officers and six firefighters.

There's a lot of local gnashing of teeth, but any Daily Record reader knows that budget problems aren't unique to York City, with federal, state and local governments facing budget deficits across the country. Many Pennsylvania cities are in even worse shape. Scranton, for example, may let 30 police officers go. The near-universal budget crunch reflects falling revenues from a combination of economic recession plus the results of politicians cutting taxes during the past decade, as if the good times would keep on rolling forever.

The current budget crisis may divert attention from York City's long-term dilemma. Let's look at characteristics York City shares with other troubled cities I've cited.

On my list of Cities Past the Point of (almost) No Return, 39 of 41 are in "little boxes" states in the Northeast and Midwest. By "little boxes," I mean that the cities are trapped within rings of independent, incorporated suburban boroughs, villages, towns and townships. The cities cannot expand by annexing new development. That's usually fatal in the Age of Sprawl. The two exceptions - Birmingham and Bessemer in Alabama - also prove the point. Unlike many southern cities, they also are ringed by many incorporated suburbs.

Most troubled cities are geographically small, and York City is very small. York City is only 5.2 square miles, and is the seventh-smallest designated central city in the nation. By contrast, the average central city covers 55 square miles, bringing many of its own suburbs within its expanding city limits.

All troubled cities are in racially and ethnically segregated regions. York County's neighborhoods and schools segregate both African-Americans and Hispanics more than most of its peer communities both inside and outside Pennsylvania. With 27 percent of blacks and 45 percent of Hispanics falling below the poverty line, a racially isolated city means an economically isolated city.

Though this diversity picture has improved in recent decades, it has been primarily middle-class minorities who have moved to the city's suburbs. We don't have new census numbers yet, but in 1990 some 93 percent of all York County's poor blacks and 88 percent of its poor Hispanics lived in York City. By contrast, 75 percent of the county's poor whites lived in the rest of the county.

Stacked against York

It is not York City's fault that it is too small and too segregated. It's the state of Pennsylvania's fault. The state has set up the "rules of the game" in a way that its cities cannot win.

Imagine that Mayor Brenner is invited to play poker with all the borough mayors and township supervisors. The legislature has set up the "rules of the game." The governor is dealer.

Pretty soon Brenner realizes that for every hand he's dealt, he must fill an inside straight to win. Meanwhile, the suburban mayors and supervisors are being dealt a wild card every time.

"Wait a minute!" says Brenner. "How am I supposed to win, playing against a stacked deck?"

"Don't be a poor loser," snaps the governor. "Stop whining and play."

Meanwhile, all the borough mayors and township supervisors are snickering about what a lousy poker player Brenner is.

Once in a while Brenner will fill an inside straight - for instance, a new county courthouse or a new ballpark. But in the course of the evening, he's going to lose consistently.

His only hope is that as the game progresses, some of the early winners aren't doing so well now. North York, West York, Red Lion - they find that they have to fill more and more inside straights themselves in order to win. Springettsbury and Spring Garden don't get dealt as many wild cards any more. They're beginning to mutter, "Somebody must be cheating."

But places such as York City or Springettsbury Township shouldn't fool themselves about who's to blame for a crooked game. The governor and the General Assembly control the rules and deal the cards.

'Staggering' disparities between county schools

Concentration of poor people in York affects education

A few weeks ago, the 2001-02 Pennsylvania System of School Assessment results were re leased. It was good news for York City School District.

"All nine district schools improved their reading scores," the York Daily Record reported," while five of the nine schools improved their math scores.

"That progress helped the district meet the test score requirement for removal from the state's empowerment list of academically distressed school districts," the Daily Record continued.

According to the PSSA report, the number of students in the bottom category (below basic) was reduced from 47.7 percent to 40 percent in reading and from 49.5 percent to 44 percent in math.

"We're encouraged, we're happy and it's a cause for celebration, with the understanding that we still have a lot of work to do," the newspaper quoted York City Supt. Carlos Lopez as saying. "We're headed in the right direction, but we've got to keep up the good work."

The city schools' progress was, indeed, good news. If sustained, the superintendent, principals, teachers, and staff can take justifiable pride in the accomplishment. The bad news, of course, continues to be that city test scores are far below levels in the rest of the county's 16 school districts.

Looking just at elementary schools, city schools - including Lincoln-Edison Charter School - averaged 41 percent of pupils scoring at the "below basic" level in math compared with an average of 20 percent throughout the rest of the county's elementary schools.

The gap was even greater in reading scores, where city schools also averaged 41 percent at the lowest level compared to an average of only 16 percent in the other schools throughout the county.

The disparities held at the top as well. City elementary schools averaged 34 percent of their pupils achieving proficient and advanced scores in math compared with 56 percent in balance-of-county schools, and 30 percent compared with 59 percent in reading.

Are Lopez and the city schools' staff doing a bad job, despite the recent progress?

Not at all. Over the past two years, four of the city's seven elementary schools substantially outperformed what one might expect the schools' scores to be in light of the economic status of the children.

For almost 40 years, educational researchers have consistently found that the economic status of a child's family and of the child's classmates are the most powerful factors shaping success or failure in school. They've also found that low-income children learn best when surrounded by middle-class schoolmates. There also have been no research findings more consistently ignored by many educators and all politicians. They refuse to challenge the racial and economic class structure of American society.

Certainly, differences in pupils' family incomes are the primary explanation for variations in school-by-school PSSA scores.

In fact, just knowing a school's proportion of low-income pupils, one can predict within six points what percentage of that school's pupils score at "below basic" level more than 95 times out of 100.

Based on my analysis of York County's 68 elementary schools, one fact - the percentage of low-income children in each school - explains 67 percent of the school-by-school variation in PSSA raw scores; 64 percent of the school-by-school variation in the percentage of pupils scoring at proficient and advanced levels; and 75 percent of the school-by-school variation in the percentage of pupils scoring at the "below basic," or lowest level.

The accompanying table shows that the economic disparities between York City schools and the rest of York County's schools are staggering.

Seventy-seven percent of York City's seven elementary schools are low-income children. Only 14 percent of pupils in the other 61 elementary schools throughout the county are low-income.

York City's least poverty-impacted schools, Phineas Davis and Jacob L. Devers, have more than twice the percentage of poor pupils (63 percent) as the rest of the county's most poverty-impacted school - Northeastern's York Haven Elementary at 31 percent.

In short, where a child lives shapes the child's educational opportunities. The issue isn't how much money is being spent per pupil in different schools. After all, York City spends more per student than any other district in the county. The issue is who the child's classmates are.

Consider that York City, including the Lincoln-Edison Charter School, saw the percentage of pupils scoring at proficient or advanced levels go up from 28 percent to 34 percent in math and from 21 percent to 30 percent in reading.

So, how would you like a plan that would raise those city children's success rates by another 20 to 30 points or even more?

Here's the plan:

Reverse the growing economic segregation in the York County housing market.

Institute an inclusionary zoning policy throughout the metro area or possibly throughout the entire county.

Require that at least 15 percent of all new subdivisions and apartments built must be affordable for people in the lowest third of the income scale.

Have an arrangement by which the York City Housing Authority, as an agent of county government, buys or rents one-third of the new afford able housing.

What would such a policy accomplish? If the next 20 years are like the last 20 years, homebuilders will erect about 48,000 new homes in York County. Assuming that the inclusionary requirements would only apply to half the new housing (that is, the larger developments), this modest policy would yield about 2,400 affordable units for working class families and another 1,200 units owned or rented by the housing authority. Little would be built in the city or in its immediate, largely built-out suburbs. Most would be in the rapidly growing townships.

More working-class housing would allow some communities' own new police recruits or young teachers to live in the communities they serve. Often they are priced out of the local market.

Some of the "welfare-to-workfare" housing owned by the housing authority would be needed for poor families already in the townships. But many units could be available to open up access to new jobs and schools for poor families currently warehoused in York City's historic neighborhoods.

York County is fortunate. Its poverty problem isn't large numbers of poor people. The county has one of the lowest poverty rates (less than 7 percent) in the nation. The problem is the intense concentration of poor people in York City. Many are poor blacks and Hispanics.

But the numbers are ridiculously small. Census 2000 found only 1,651 poor families with school-age children in York City. Some 1,200 housing units owned by the housing authority hypothetically would allow three-quarters of the city's poor families to relocate to new suburban communities. That would drop the city's poverty rate to the county average.

Even falling short of that target, providing hundreds of relocation opportunities would open up York City's historic neighborhoods. That would accelerate a movement back to the city by professional, middle-class households.

That back-to-the-city movement has been limited to households without children. Few middle-class families opt to put their own children in high-poverty schools. But reducing the poverty level in the schools might encourage more middle-class families to move back.

Many research studies have consistently demonstrated the dramatic improvement in academic performance of low-income children when attending strong, middle-class schools.

One point bears repeating: There have been no research findings more consistently ignored by many educators and virtually all politicians who will not challenge the racial and economic structure of American society.

I believe that York County is better than that.

Wisconsin study shows classmates count in testing

Early this year I analyzed three years of school data covering fourth-graders in the 60 elementary schools in 16 school districts of Dane County, Wis., home to the state capital of Madison. I wanted to know how much socioeconomic status affected student success. In other words, did that predict results more than what was happening in the schools? I found that the socioeconomic status of a school's pupil population was a huge factor, accounting for: 73 percent of the variation in reading achievement. 64 percent of the variation in language achievement. 71 percent of the variation in math achievement.

76 percent of the variation in science achievement.

77 percent of the variation in social studies achievement.

Second, test scores of low-income pupils improved significantly the more they were surrounded by middle-class classmates. For every 1 percent increase in middle class classmates, the average low-income fourth-grade pupil's odds of achieving proficient and advanced levels increased:

0.64 percentage points in reading.

0.50 percentage points in language.

0.72 percentage points in math.

0.80 percentage points in science.

0.74 percentage points in social studies.

In other words, the difference between a low-income pupil's attending a school with 45 percent middle-class classmates and that pupil's attending a school with 85 percent middle-class classmates would typically be a large, 20 to 32 percentage point improvement in that low-income pupil's odds of reaching a proficient or advanced achievement level. Third, a school's socioeconomic context matters far more for low-income pupils than for their middle-class counterparts. The statistical analysis did show a slight decline of middle-class pupils' test scores as the percentage of low-income classmates increased. However, the rate of decline for middle-class pupils was less than half the rate of improvement for low-income pupils.

And that apparent decline in middle-class pupils' performance most probably reflected the changing composition of the "middle class" in schools with increasingly higher percentages of low-income classmates. Schools with very few low-income pupils had higher percentages of children from the highest income, largely professional households. In schools with much larger numbers of low-income pupils, children from more modest "blue-collar" households predominated.

That was most likely the primary contributing factor to the apparent slow decline in middle class test scores and not any directly adverse effect of having more low-income classmates. And local performance levels never dropped below three-fourths of the middle-class students achieving advanced and proficient levels under any socioeconomic circumstances in Madison or the rest of Dane County.

Notice differences across state line

Maryland offers York County a model for coordinating and limiting growth

Driving north on Interstate 83 one sees a living textbook of some of the best and some of the worst land-use planning in America.

The historic neighborhoods abutting downtown (Fells Point, Otterbein, and Federal Hill) are filled with households with lots of money in their pockets - young, professional singles; gay couples; DINKs (Double-Income, No Kids); empty nesters. Both locals and thousands of tourists patronize a thriving array of restaurants, bars, and jazz clubs, turning downtown Baltimore into a "yuppie theme park."

Whizzing up the city's old industrial valley, however, we're surrounded by abandoned factory buildings and decaying, once-blue collar, now-no collar neighborhoods. Baltimore's booming, two-square-mile Inner Harbor has not offset the steady decay of the other 79 square miles of Baltimore City. In fact, Baltimore City passed my designated Point of (almost) No Return two decades before York City did. Its downward drift continued during the 1990s. Baltimore City and York City share the same core problem - racial and economic isolation.

Quite simply, both cities have been treated as warehouses for their region's poor minorities.

Metro Baltimore's black residents are much more prevalent (26 percent) than York County's (3 percent), but levels of racial and economic segregation are similar. In 1990, 72 percent of all of metro Baltimore's poor blacks lived in poor city neighborhoods as did 69 percent of York County's poor blacks. Concentration of poor Hispanics was similarly skewed. This picture didn't change much in the past decade.

Because 81-square-mile Baltimore City has a much bigger tax base than 5.2-square-mile York City, Baltimore City has a better bond rating (A1) - four steps better than York City (Baa2) but below the Aa and Aaa ratings of "elastic" cities that can annex new development. Baltimore City's last annexation occurred in 1917.

In fact, almost none of the Inner Harbor's showcase projects were financed by city money. Baltimore City was too poor. In effect, two successive Maryland governors, William Donald Schaeffer and Parris Glendening, fiscally annexed the whole state treasury to pay for the ballparks, convention center, aquarium, and other major public investments. Similarly, county and state governments pick up most of the tab for major new public investments in York City.

Continuing up I-83, a sign announces that we've entered Baltimore County. At first, there's little to see among the jumble of highway interchanges. But about two miles north of the I-83/I-645 junction we come to Timonium-Hunt Valley, a massive concentration of millions of square feet of office buildings, stores, high-tech factories, warehouses, and apartment complexes.

Timonium-Hunt Valley on the east, Towson (the county seat, but not a municipality itself) in the center, and Owings Mill on the west - the three constitute Baltimore County's principal commercial centers as called for decades ago in the county's comprehensive plan.

Just a few hundred yards north of Exit 20 (Hunt Valley), something remarkable happens. I-83 plunges into at least 15 miles of uninterrupted farmland on either side of the highway. We've entered Baltimore County's agricultural preserve, protected by rigorous farmland zoning (no more than one house for every 40 acres) and extensive acquisition of development rights by county and state funds.

There are exits from the interstate - five in all. But they are unlike most interstate exits we'll ever see. These exit signs don't advertise the typical jumble of fast food outlets, national chain motels and service stations. In fact, the signs indicate, only two gas stations plus a handful of points of historic interest lie somewhere out of sight. The five exits lead simply up onto country roads to get Northern Baltimore County residents home.

Ah, but highway billboards reappear just over the Mason-Dixon line upon leaving Maryland's Baltimore County and entering Pennsylvania's York County. In fact, the huge Wal-Mart, squatting on a sawed-off hill to the left of the highway, announces the Shrewsbury exit more dramatically than the exit sign with its rainbow array of gas station and fast food logos.

New, generic, pitched roof, stucco homes march up the rolling hillsides and line the ridgelines. Though this area has the highest median home value in York County ($125,000 in 2000), the houses are relatively affordable for Baltimore area workers who commute an average drive of 33 minutes each way to Timonium-Hunt Valley and points further south.

Indeed, the development of what I've called "York-Baltimore" (Shrewsbury, Hopewell, East Hopewell, Fawn, and Peach Bottom townships) is a reaction to Baltimore County's strong land-use planning. Not wanting to live in Baltimore County's closer-in suburbs (nor perhaps being able to afford to), middle-income families leap over Baltimore County's pricey agricultural preserve to find more affordable homes in York-Baltimore.

The roadside sign announcing "23 acres of commercial property for sale" that I noticed six years ago has disappeared, replaced by a string of bland steel buildings. But similar signs continue to dot the roadside, indicating landowners' eagerness to cash in by subdividing their land. And that's certainly understandable. For many older farmers, subdividing their land is their retirement plan.

As you continue to drive north, signs announce that we're leaving one township and entering the next, and the countryside struggles to reassert itself. But surmounting the next rise in the highway may reveal another cluster of new homes, perhaps an entire subdivision, plunked down in the middle of cropland. And everywhere, you see billboards as landowners squeeze out a few more dollars of revenue.

Finally, the shores of lovely Lake Redman, protected by the York Water Co., restate the underlying natural beauty of York County, marred but not obliterated by all the roadside clutter of Anywhere USA.

As I-83 rises past Leader Heights, we take the left exit sloping down a long hill through Spring Garden township, past York Hospital, which is invisibly halved between township and city, and onto South George Street, which thankfully was converted back into a two-way street since my 1996 report.

And around us lies historic York City, a Federal Hill-Fells Point-in-waiting, no farther in rush hour travel time from Timonium-Hunt Valley than is downtown Baltimore itself.

For this article on sprawl, I could have reviewed a long litany of statistics on proposed subdivisions endorsed, rezoning actions approved, agricultural easements purchased, agricultural security zones established, and so on.

Instead, we've taken this drive up I-83 because I think that the passing scene has become so familiar that many York County residents fail to see the big picture. You're losing the York County that you love. It's dying the death of a thousand little cuts.

The contrast between York County and Baltimore County is dramatic. The Mason-Dixon line literally separates two worlds in terms of land-use planning.

Basic attitudes toward planning are not different between Marylanders and Pennsylvanians. A survey commissioned by Better York after my 1996 report showed that three-quarters of York County residents were opposed to urban sprawl. Overwhelmingly, they supported concentrating new development in existing communities and preserving the maximum amount of farmland and open space even at the cost of higher local taxes.

The difference is how local governance has been organized by the two states. Twenty-three county governments are the primary local governments in Maryland. There are no townships and only 155 municipalities. Under state law, few municipalities retain separate planning and zoning powers. County governments control land development. County governments are "big boxes," averaging more than 450 miles in size.

With more than 750,000 residents and no municipalities whatsoever, 600-square mile Baltimore County is the quintessential "big box."

By contrast, Pennsylvania is a state of "little boxes." With 66 counties, 1,022 cities and boroughs, and 1,518 townships, Pennsylvania has more local governments (2,636) than any other state except Illinois (2,817). The state assigns basic planning and zoning responsibility to the 2,570 municipalities; counties have only advisory roles. The "little boxes" responsible for so-called "comprehensive" planning in Pennsylvania average less than 18 square miles in size.

Let's hear from the York County Planning Commission itself: "It is obvious that the structure of government in Pennsylvania is not one that promotes a coordinated approach to growth management. In York County there are 64 different municipal comprehensive plans, 64 different municipal zoning ordinances, and 66 different subdivision ordinances. With so many plans and ordinances operating independently, growth and development throughout the county is many times proceeding in a fragmented rather than in a coordinated way."

Jurisdictional fragmentation is compounded by the state-devised local tax structure. Pennsylvania's 2,570 municipal governments are highly dependent on property taxes. This promotes the "ratable chase" - a constant scramble for desirable industrial, commercial, and expensive homes in every jurisdiction regardless of impact on the landscape - much less on the neighboring jurisdiction.

The table illustrates the contrast in land-use patterns in the last decade between states like Maryland and "little boxes" states like Pennsylvania. The table further divides the two groups by two other factors. Does state law require local governments to plan collaboratively to meet state land-use goals? Did the state's population grow faster or slower than the national average (13 percent) during the 1990s?

The key outcome is acres of land used per net new resident. "Big box" states with strong state requirements like Oregon, Washington and Florida developed only 0.44 acres for each new resident. And "little boxes" states with active state oversight (Vermont, Rhode Island, and New Jersey) also developed relatively little land - only 0.59 acres per new resident.

Many big box states, such as California, also experienced tremendous Hispanic immigration. Hispanic immigrants packed into existing cities, lowering their new land developed to 0.54 acres per net new resident.

But in states with slower population growth, what one might call "no-growth growth" was the order of the day. In this case, big box developed about 15 percent less land per net new resident (1.03 acres) than did little boxes states (1.19 acres).

And Pennsylvania's performance was dismal. With only 3.4 percent growth in population, Pennsylvania's developed land increased 32.4 percent. Pennsylvania developed land at a mind-blowing rate of 2.54 acres per net new resident.

Pennsylvania is not going to become Maryland. Pennsylvania will never give up its system of 2,570 cities, boroughs, and townships for Maryland's 23 counties. But it can follow the example of Vermont and Rhode Island, which also have large numbers of small municipalities, and assert overall state responsibility for land development, farmland and open space preservation. And Pennsylvania can follow its own example in giving its 66 county governments overall responsibility for planning storm drainage on a multi-jurisdictional basis with power to enforce county plans in the face of uncooperative municipalities.

County government is not some distant level of "higher" government. County government served York County before there ever were municipal governments. County government is simply the other local government - locally elected, locally accountable - that can do for local residents collectively what the 72 little boxes cannot accomplish separately.

York County residents will not be able to control urban sprawl, concentrate most development in existing communities and preserve its beautiful countryside until they have convinced the Pennsylvania General Assembly to give York County government the powers it needs to act as a Big Box.

Call for a compact

York has incredible potential if the will to change is there

When I released data last August showing that the City of York had slid beyond the Point of (almost) No Return, one angry and offended city council member said that I would not be welcome in York again.

Too bad, for I am one of York City's biggest fans. My comments were an example of "tough love."

I have spoken and consulted in more than 100 metropolitan areas in the last decade. Whenever asked, I have told many audiences elsewhere that there are six communities on my "short list." The six are three larger metro areas - Portland, Ore.; Seattle, Wash.; and Charlotte, N.C. - and three smaller communities - Madison, Wis.; Franklin, Tenn. (south of Nashville); and York.

Being on my "short list" means that I think that these communities have so much going for them that, if they could just reach beyond where they are now to institute some key policy changes, they would be all that America wants to be, fulfilling their stewardship both to nature and to neighbors.

Indeed, I wrote in 1996 that "without more unified action, in another two or three generations, York County will have seen its farms, its natural areas, its intimate network of villages and boroughs, its historic city simply erode away. The scale of York County's challenges is not large. Success requires more vision and political courage than large resources. It is readily within the reach of York County to be, very simply, the best that America can be."

Both points are truer today than six years ago. The quality of life in York County is slowly eroding, and community excellence is still within easy reach. "Easy," that is, not in political terms but in ready solutions.

Though the supply of printed copies is nearly exhausted, my full 1996 report is available on the York Daily Record Web site, ydr.com. It contains 24 pages of analysis of economic, social, and land use trends updated by the articles of the past week. It includes a dozen case studies of successful policies elsewhere that could be adapted locally. A closing page contained about three dozen specific recommendations for action by civic and business leaders, local government, and state government. Few were acted upon. All are still applicable.

As I've noted in other articles this week, the greater York community has made some progress - and suffered setbacks - over the past six years.

One development offers promise of real action - the organization of York Counts. York Counts is a coalition of more than 80 business and labor leaders, elected officials and key public administrators, and civic activists committed to confronting the area's basic problems.

Of great significance, York Counts has strong political and financial support from the York County commissioners. In fact, a more active York County government has emerged through its reinvigorated planning commission, its sponsorship of hundreds of affordable housing units scattered throughout the county and its financial support of accelerated farmland preservation efforts.

I would propose that York Counts develop a York Counts Compact, a formal inter-governmental vehicle by which the region's little boxes can come together for collective action on the key problems I've discussed this week. These are problems that they really cannot handle separately. County government would act as the compact's operational agent.

The compact need not be countywide. Indeed, there might be several compacts to reflect the current economic divisions of York County. Though York-Hanover would clearly be a candidate for its own compact, I'll focus on Central York. Most desirably, the Central York Compact would include the city, its first ring suburbs (North York, West York, Springettsbury, Spring Garden, Manchester, and West Manchester), and the second-ring townships where most residential construction is now occurring (York, Windsor, Dover, and East Manchester).

The compact would be a legally binding contract between county government and all the participating municipalities for a specified period of, say, 20 to 25 years. Communities would join the compact through one of two methods:

The politicians vote. Each city and borough council and township board of supervisors would have to vote to join the compact. Frankly, that's unlikely. Turf protection runs too strong. Municipal officials have a difficult enough time agreeing to share snowplowing equipment. Collaborating voluntarily on really tough problems such as land use, "fair share" housing and tax-base sharing, seems beyond imagining.

The citizens vote. York Counts could seek special enabling legislation from the General Assembly. A state law would empower the York County Commission to designate sub-county, multi-municipal "communities of common interest." After a lengthy planning process involving municipal officials, interest groups, and the general public, the county commission would call for a public referendum on the compact.

All voters within the designated area would cast their votes as a single box; no jurisdiction would have individual veto power to remain outside the compact. If the compact were approved by a majority of voters, all jurisdictions within the designated "community of common interest" would be mandatory signatories. If voted down, the plan would die for all.

It can happen. In 1970, voters in a three-county area approved formation of Portland Metro, the region's land-use planning authority despite vigorous opposition from Portland city officials and others among its 24 municipalities. Under the overall guidance of Portland Metro, backed by strong state laws, the Portland region has the nation's most successful growth management plan.

What responsibilities would the compact cover? County government would not supplant municipal governments. County government would merely act as agent for those issues that clearly transcend municipal boundaries and where traditional inter-municipal arrangements - like mutual aid agreements for police and fire protection - cannot get the job done.

My own proposed list would have as its goals:

Controlling suburban sprawl and reversing urban disinvestment.

Implementing more "fair share" housing to lift the burden of concentrated poverty from York City's historic neighborhoods and open up access to a greater range of educational and job opportunities for residents currently trapped in inner-city neighborhoods.

Revitalizing the city's historic neighborhoods largely through attracting younger, professional households and empty nesters, though always maintain ing racial, ethnic, and economic diversity. Such households would be drawn not only from the existing York housing market (as the success of The Lofts on North George Street demonstrates) but also by marketing York City as a bedroom community for Timonium-Hunt Valley or, even more ambitious ly, promoting historic York City as a center for the design professions such as engineering, architecture and graphic arts.

Sharing increased tax revenues from the re-gentrified historic neighborhoods with all compact members. The increased revenues from what would someday be York County's most valuable property should not flow only to York City since the historic neighbor hoods' revitalization could not have occurred without suburban collaboration on "fair share" low- and moderate-income housing.

"The devil is in the details," the old adage says. I could spell out many of the details, but they are amply covered in the 1996 report. More importantly, national models exist for achieving each of these policy goals. Many of these are also summarized in the 1996 report.

No. I think that the devil is in the dead weight of Pennsylvania's "little boxes" tradition. Are my proposals radical? Only for Pennsylvania and its sister "little boxes" states. Elsewhere, most of the most dynamic communities in the country are organized into larger, more unified, "Big Box" municipal and consolidated city-county governments.

For example, Raleigh annexed land equivalent to an entire York County township during the 1990s. Charlotte expanded by the equivalent of three local townships. For that matter, Albuquerque, Austin, and Charlotte, which were all about York City's population size around 1930 or 1940, today are municipalities that contain around 200 square miles - roughly as much land as I've proposed for the Central York Compact.

Quite simply, York City is much too small to survive on its own, and probably Central York is too divided to continue to thrive.

"Small is beautiful" was a hip philosophy a generation ago. Perhaps. But framing a world view so small that it can't act beyond about 25 square miles (a typical York County township), five square miles (York City), or one square mile (a typical York County borough) is eroding York County's natural beauty.

And such a narrow world view is also eroding York County's sense of fairness. If county residents want a society that is highly segregated by race, ethnicity and economic class, you have the perfect "little boxes" structure to maintain that. Little boxes can be a refuge from our darkest fears.

If you want to reaffirm that basic sense of fairness and access to opportunity for all that we hold forth as an essential American commitment, you have the vehicle at hand to achieve that - your county government.

***

Letter from the editor: What happens outside school matters a lot

By Dennis Hetzel

News item from the Associated Press: "Among the world's richest countries, South Korea has the most effective education, with Japan in second place and the United States and Germany near the bottom, a United Nations study said."

The article went on to say that the study was based on five different tests of 14 and 15 year-olds to determine their abilities in reading, math and science.

Does this indicate failing schools and poor teachers?

Not so fast.

"It is clear that educational disadvantage is born not at school but in the home," said the U.N. report.

Analysts looked for all kinds of connections, including educational spending per student, and didn't find much with one exception.

"The biggest thing is obviously the socio-economic background of the child and how well-educated their parents are," said UNICEF spokesman Patrick McCormick.

Basically, McCormick said that countries aren't going to fare as well if they are economically diverse with lots of people moving around and big poverty gaps.

And, Daily Record readers will learn this week, that isn't only true about countries. It's true about counties. Including one named York.

Starting Monday, urban expert David Rusk begins a week-long look at York County, a place he sees with difficult problems and incredible potential. And most of those problems stem from the failure to deal with urban sprawl, concentration of poverty and racial segregation.

If anything, I found his findings clearer and more eye-opening than the first time he examined York County, in 1995.

One thing he did was conduct an exhaustive examination of York County elementary schools and what percentage of students in each school was performing below a basic level on state achievement tests.

Rusk found that he could predict within six points what that percentage would be if he only knew one thing: The overall poverty level of the student population.

I found this to be remarkable. And it debunks the bashing that goes on of public education bad schools, lazy teachers, etc. The key predictor of educational achievement isn't what goes on in the classroom, but the environment from which the child comes.

These findings don't mean that poverty-stressed school districts should give up. There has to be hope, and people such as city school Supt. Carlos Lopez point to programs across the country that make a difference. The city schools have improved test scores, too. But Rusk's point is still valid: The challenges urban districts face are daunt ing, unfair and - one might argue - even immoral.

Perhaps we can't change the world, but we can change York County. Unfortunately, the accompanying chart shows that the poverty gap between the city and other York County school districts appear to have widened since Rusk's earlier study of the county.

Nearly 80 percent of York city's elementary students are living below the poverty line. The next two poorest districts, Northeastern and Hanover, are slightly above 20 percent. And isn't it eye-opening to consider that more than 1 in 10 elementary students in all but a few York County school districts are living in poverty? This is true in one of the most prosperous parts of Pennsylvania in the most prosperous country the world has ever known.

Here are some other points to look for this week:

What if Penn State-York or York College could develop as world-class research institutions in certain areas? Successful communities almost always have such an institution. Are we doing enough in economic development to connect these dots?

What does it mean when more and more of the income growth in York County is coming from people who live in northern and southern York County and work outside, usually in the Harrisburg or Baltimore areas? The metro York and Hanover regions are losing ground by comparison.

What does it mean to live in one of the most segregated metropolitan areas in America? How well are we prepared for the more diverse and interesting world that awaits?

We've called this latest effort: "Rusk Report II: A Challenge to Change." His closing essay, with specific ideas for what can be done, will be in this section next Sunday. You don't need to agree with what he has to say, but if you care about York County, you certainly could do a lot worse than invest some time in the coming week.

***

Analyst sees hope in York

David Rusk says joint effort is needed to save the county's assets.

By Jim Lynch

David Rusk can be a silver-lining type of guy.

Where some fail to look beyond the problems of the present, he looks for the potential beneath the surface.

He is also a realist - a cruncher of numbers and a believer in their ability to reveal. In analyzing York County, Rusk is forced to be a little bit of both. Despite a wealth of positives in the downtown area - such as its historical significance to the nation and an abundant stock of housing - people continue to leave the City of York. They are taking the diversity of incomes, education levels and ethnic backgrounds essential to a healthy, balanced city. The departure of middle-class white people has continued to push development outward. Commercial developments appear where there used to be farms, and new housing developments crop up while the city's housing stock is ignored. And the ethnic polarization continues. The City of York has become an island of different cultures, while the rest of the county is increasingly becoming a sea of whites. And those whites, even the poorer among them, are generally better off than their black and Hispanic counterparts in the city. For example, more lower-income blacks and Hispanics live in poor neighborhoods than do whites with similar incomes. It has been six years since the urban policy analyst turned his full attention to this area. Back then, he saw a York County that was headed on the slow track of decline. And the realist in him sees that trend continuing today.

He is the man behind the 1996 Rusk Report - an evaluation of the county financed by Better York Inc. and published in the York Daily Record. This week, Rusk returns to the pages of the newspaper with an update on York County's progress over the past half-dozen years.

Four months ago, Rusk the realist released a list of U.S. cities that were nearing the point of no return in terms of certain demographic and economic categories. York and 16 other cities made that list. "All the trends identified back in 1996 are still in place," he said. Those include the growing disparities between the city and the surrounding county in terms of affluence, education and ethnic makeup, and the march of sprawl into the area's townships and boroughs. Those factors, he said, are primed to further widen the gaps that separate the community.

Yet Rusk said he still finds much to like about the area.

"I think York County and the city have got tremendous virtues and tremendous potential," he said. "I've been in over 100 metro areas as a speaker, and when I'm asked about exemplary communities, I have a short list of six: metro Portland, Oregon; Seattle, Washington; Charlotte, North Carolina; Franklin, Tennessee; Madison, Wisconsin and York.

"These are communities that have so much going for them that if they'll just reach a little beyond where they are ... ." One of the area's strengths, Rusk said, is its strong economy - an economy that is, by and large, locally-owned. The rolling countryside and farmland provide aesthetic beauty as well as a change of pace from the county's industrial and commercial areas.

And, perhaps most importantly, there is the City of York itself. Rusk said he believes the troubled urban area may hold the key to the future growth of the entire county.

It is York's housing stock that provides Rusk with his silver lining.

"This city, architecturally, is a jewel," he said. The prevalence of attractive housing is something local residents can thank past government leaders for, sort of.

"York was blessed with such conservative mayors in the 1950s and 1960s," Rusk said, "they never got caught up in urban renewal. When you look around the country, a great deal of what was built to replace what was knocked down in the 1950s and 1960s was not very inspiring. That period of time was not great for architecture.

The availability of attractive historic housing could spur a return to the city by, first, new residents, and subsequently, new commercial development.

There are signs that such a scenario may be playing out. The Susquehanna Commerce Center is one of the most visible developments to come to downtown York in some time, but it is not the only indicator. Rusk's research shows that some professionals already have opted to make the city their home.

Time will tell if those numbers are the start of a revitalizing trend.

In the coming week, Rusk will examine six aspects of York County's current situation and how they affect residents' quality of life. They are local economic performance over the past decade, the development of York's four distinct geographical personalities, the decline of the city, impacts on education, the future of farmland and natural areas, and, finally, a big-picture look at the area.